poor little bubbers

So lately my Jude has been a bit of a roller coaster. Beastie brute one minute, and the sweetest honey-pie the next. Never saw such a moody little peanut. He's working through some things, I guess. But tonight he lost his pacifier. Now, I've been meaning to get rid of that thing. The girls got theirs taken away at 12 month, so he is 3 months overdue, and I have just been avoiding the issue. As I have mentioned, he can have his cantankerous moments, and he has been sick on and off... honestly, I just don't want another battle on my hands. But he lost it. So I call that providential, and put the little fella to bed sans binky.

It took him about 30 minutes to get to sleep. I don't know how I ever got through letting the girls cry through their nighttime wake up period, 'cause it was a longish half-hour. But at any rate, I felt good about it, and so when he started up again, and more fiercely than before, I gritted my teeth and finished the blog post I was reading. When I went in to settle him down, he was on his knees, facing the wall, just screaming, and he didn't turn around when I came in. Then I tried to pick him up, and realized that the poor child's arm was stuck in the crib rails. Jerk Mom that I am! Fortunately, it wasn't wedged, it just needed a little room to straighten out, so as soon as I pulled the crib out from the wall, he pulled it out himself and stopped crying. So the pain couldn't have been too awful, but the poor dude!

I picked him up and cradled him as he settled, but it broke my heart to hear how his breath caught in his throat with each inhale, that sad sad mark of having cried too hard for too long. I distinctly remember that feeling from my childhood, how I wanted so badly to just stop crying and move on, but my physical body was so disturbed that I had to wait through that cooldown phase, when even my breathing bore the evidence of recent trauma. His deep breaths were the pitiful multiple catching ones. His puffy little face took me back to that nearly 10 pound newborn that I brought home from the hospital over a year ago. I could see him so clearly in this big guy's vulnerability.

I kissed his little twitchy face, his marshmallow cheeks, and his perfect full lips, and as he drifted back to sleep, his brow still slightly furrowed, I ached for his baby sensibilities, as he had had a bad night all around. But as I laid him in his crib and he made his little adjustments of comfort and habit, he reached down and felt around for his belly button, stuck his index finger in it, and looked completely peaceful. I guess he's already found his new pacifier.

an upswing, I think

Okay, so fall has really been something so far. I love the fall, but I have just been exhausted, not getting enough sleep, and the only time I have for blogging is when Jude is asleep, and he sleeps in the room with the computer (our bedroom). I don't generally want to risk waking him, but today, for some reason, I am reasonably sure that his deep sleep will remain deep. This boy is a source of much joy and hilarity for all of us. He is energetic, playful, funny, stinking cute, and very affectionate. But he is a normal baby, and his newest normal developmental stage is the discovery of gravity. he drops things constantly, and then expects them to be handed right back. He whines when the object is not returned to him. Little Booger.

I know that my girls were exceptionally easy babies. I mean unbelievably, practically perfect, Mary Poppins babies. So much so that I wondered if maybe they wouldn't be particularly smart - just happy, content, kind little people. I was fine with that possibility. I know now that I just had a very blessed babyhood with them. They never even drooled! I am serious! Of course, now, I am realizing how very smart and clever they really are, it just didn't kick into high gear until 2 years of age. I am fine with that, also, but man - what a difference between their babyhood and their precocious toddler-hood, plus a wild baby boy!

They are amazing me more every day, with their long sentences and their different senses of humor. I really enjoy their mispronunciations, also... meatlove (meatloaf), meep balls (meatballs), oapmeal (oatmeal), I don't know why, but the best ones seem to be food related. Oh, and stum (thumb) is another favorite of mine. I like these late afternoon photos... they just have a warm glow that makes me happy.
I got an hour long nap today, and I feel optimistic about things. Potty training is a very slow process, but it is mostly due to the fact that I am not very proactive about it.. I think the girls would have mastered it long ago if I would have just stepped up my game a bit... but slow is okay with us; I just really have to watch that I don't feel bad about it when people ask me why they are not trained yet. After all, it has been my own choice to take it easy, and it isn't anything to feel either guilty or competitive about. Bedtime is getting better, thanks in part to a renewal of patience and consistency on Dan's and my side of things, and some good advice from a fellow mother of twins (thank you, Clare!).

The girls were much more concerned that I take pictures of their "fwudders" (which is their fantastic was of saying flowers ), than of them. I tried to do both. And yes, I know that they are grasses, not flowers, but the girls will not be convinced of this.

As far as my general well-being goes, I am on an upswing, I think. But realistically, there is a lot of up and down in life and parenting, and I am learning , slowly, how to take these peaks and valleys in stride. Sort of. Sometimes.